Say Yes
by girlyghoul
Summary: Before Sam says 'Yes' to Lucifer, Dean wants to enjoy one last day with his brother. Tag to Episode 5x22 "Swan Song". Mild cussing and major angst. But with a healthy dose of brotherly schmoop.


DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters.

WARNINGS: Spoilers for "Swan Song", mild cussing and possibly tissues will be needed.

* * *

**SAY YES**

"_Question is," Bobby says, "What exactly are you afraid of? Losing… or losing your brother?"_

Dean doesn't answer. He steps away from the table and spends the next several hours keeping the long dead car frames in Bobby's vehicular bone yard company while trying to wash the question away with a 5th of Southern Comfort. He stays out 'til night falls, leaving the empty bottle under a full sky of stars.

By the time he reaches the steps of the house, he has the answer. Not to Bobby's question, but to what to do about his crazy brother's jacked-up "Say 'Yes' to the Devil plan". It's the only thing he can do. The only thing he's done for the past 27 years: Watch out for Sammy and save his stupid ass from himself.

Bobby is putting away the last of the supper dishes when Dean stomps into the kitchen. He doesn't even give the older man chance to open his mouth before he demands:

"Where's Sam?"

"Turned in early," Bobby answers simply and Dean is already on his way towards the guest bedroom before the voice behind him warns, "Dean, what are you gonna do?"

"Whatever I have to!" he answers, not looking back or paying any more attention to the old man.

He has not spent most of his life pulling this kid's hand away from hot stoves, making him take the bed furthest from the door and stepping in front of every monster or bullet headed his way to just stand back now and let Sam go jumping into the Pit of his own free will. After all, he didn't say 'yes' and neither will Sam. Not on his watch.

Dean bursts into the bedroom ready to yell, scream, punch, or drag his brother's gigantic form all the way down the stairs into the panic room by the hair if that's what it comes to.

Before he can even get a word out however, he catches sight of Sam's sleeping face bathed in the dim moonlight shining through the thin curtains.

It's a sight Dean hasn't seen in years. Not since the two of them started hunting together again and certainly not since Lucifer was set free. But his brother's relaxed, completely- the corners of his lips slightly upturned. And Dean knows in an instant there's absolutely nothing he can do to stop this. Sam's decision has been made… and he's at peace with it.

Dean stands stock still in the doorway for a long, long while just watching the younger man sleep, thankfully for once with a clear conscience. Then he finally stops watching over Sammy and turns back towards the kitchen, his own decision made.

Bobby's seated at the table with a bottle of bourbon and an extra glass set out, but Dean doesn't acknowledge the unspoken offer or even the man himself. Instead he pulls his keys from his pocket hurries to the door.

"Now what are you gonna do?" Bobby asks, his tone heavy with exasperation.

"Whatever…" Dean starts before cutting himself off.

He doesn't dare turn around to face the older man, doesn't dare look into the questioning, concerned eyes he knows are studying his every move.

"_What_ I have to." he amends, before stepping into the cool night air.

* * *

He spends the rest of the night driving while screaming at the top of his lungs, pulling over only when his vision becomes too blurred with tears and once to vomit by the side of the road. It's almost dawn before he is finally able to complete the task he set out to do and already past sunrise by the time he makes it back to Bobby's with his box of supplies.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Princess!" Dean shouts, whipping the curtains aside to let the sunlight stream in.

Sam groans at the sudden brightness, rolling over to squint at his brother curiously.

"You're up early," he yawns.

Dean answers with a grunt. He won't tell Sam he never slept or what he was doing all night.

"D'jya sleep good?" he asks instead.

"Uhh huh, yeah actually," Sam nods, stretching his arms over his head.

He pushes the blankets down and starts to slide his feet to the floor, but Dean stops him with a warning finger.

"Ah ah! Don't move! Stay right where you are!" he demands.

Sam freezes automatically out of habit, his eyes scanning the floor for something dangerous. But then Dean is walking forward with a Breakfast tray which he places over Sam's lap. He lifts up a cloth napkin with a flourish to unveil a feast of fresh coffee, scrambled eggs and bacon, buttered toast and a half-pint of milk resting in an as of yet empty cereal bowl. Ignoring his brother's puzzled expression he then tucks the napkin into the collar of Sam's t-shirt, smirking with satisfaction at how ridiculous it looks covering the young man's broad chest.

"Dude, are you serious?" Sam snorts, his eyes surveying the spread, "What is all this? Is… Is it my birthday?"

"Umm, no," Dean ponders, snatching up a strip of bacon, "That was last week… and uhh… Happy Birthday by the way…"

"You're not gonna sing to me are you?" Sam cringes as Dean opens up the milk carton.

"Nope," Dean says, still crunching bacon, "S'not really your birthday and besides we both want you to keep all this nutritious food down. We got a full day ahead of us and that calls for a Hearty Breakfast."

He reaches down beside the bed to retrieve the surprise he's hidden there. Sam laughs so hard he almost spills the tray as Dean sits there beside him, beaming with a large box of Lucky Charms in his hands.

"No way!" Sam says, still grinning, "Are you kidding me with this? I haven't had Lucky Charms since I was like ten! What is up with you?"

"Like I said," Dean answers as he fills the bowl to overflowing, "Big day ahead and you're gonna need your strength. So pink hearts, yellow moons and green clovers it is. Top o' da mornin' to ya, Sammy!"

He watches Sam bite back a grimace at his terrible Irish accent and then furrow his brow in suspicious confusion.

"Dean, what's going on?" he asks carefully, "What are we doing today?"

"Well, for starters," Dean leans casually on his side and sneaks more bacon, "We've got a backseat full of fishing gear and a whole coffee can full of live bait. Then after an hour or two of catching absolutely nada, I figure we hit the theater, maybe check out a matinee. See if _Nightmare on Elm Street_ or _Clash of the Titans_ is playing. I mean, remakes suck in general but come on: 'Release the Kraken!' And after that… well, it's up to you. We could hit the pool halls, nudie bars… or I dunno… Bowling. Bowling might be fun…That is if we can find an alley that actually carries clown shoes that'll fit your gargantuan feet…"

Dean can see Sam's expression growing more and more grim as his suggestions get more and more desperate. He finally shuts up when Sam's jaw begins to twitch and the younger man turns away. He rolls onto his back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm talking about a day off, Sammy," he says quietly, "You know. We just put the caps on a killer storm in Chicago, stomped out freakin' Croatoan virus and got our greedy mitts on the last two Horseman rings. I think we deserve a major vacation, but I'll settle for one day off!"

"Dean…" Sam begins, sadly, "I… I don't think that's such a good idea. You know… the Devil…"

"Can wait one more damn day!" Dean snaps, leaping to his feet.

He paces across the room, rubbing his hand over his mouth. He didn't think he had anymore tears left in him after last night but now they're already stinging the corners of his eyes. Because the truth is, he wants more than one day. He wants a whole lifetime. He wants to grab his little brother and hide him away- keep him locked up safe until they're both old men with bad livers and no teeth daring each other to pull the other one's finger. He does not want to let him go through with this ridiculous and suicidal plan. He does not want Sam saying 'yes' to Lucifer. Not now, not a day from now, not ever!

He glances over his shoulder to see his brother sitting up in bed- A giant of a man taking up most of the mattress. A grown man in spite of the bib and kiddie cereal Dean just forced upon him. A man looking at him with those same sad puppy eyes he's been pulling since he was five-years-old. Only now, not pleading with Dean to let him have his way, but for the older man to understand. And that look tears straight through Dean's soul because he does understand. This has nothing to do with him letting Sam do anything… only letting him go.

But not now. Not today.

"I'm asking for a day, Sam," he says hoarsely, "I don't think that's too much. A day of just the two of us kickin' back, hangin' out, doing what the Hell ever and screw everything and everyone else. Bobby and Cas can hold down the fort for 24 hours, they can do what needs to be done. But you and me we get one whole day to chill out and go nuts and just be together! The Winchester Brothers kickin' ass and takin' names one last…" his voice catches, "One more time before the shit goes down… Please Sammy, I need this!... Say 'Yes'…"

He stops, choking back a bitter laugh that threatens to turn into a sob and buries his face in his hand. He hears Sam make a similarly pained chuckle while idly jostling the box of cereal in his lap.

"Ok, Dean," Sam answers finally.

He's saving '_Yes_' for someone else Dean knows. But he still manages a smile and a sigh of relief, wiping his eyes before he dares face Sam again.

The kid's got his dimples out in full force in spite of the tears streaking down his cheeks. That mischievous look that always means trouble.

"D'ya want the prize?" he asks, holding out the sugar-dust covered object that he managed to excavate from the Lucky Charms.

"The prizes these days are such cheap ass pieces of crap if you even get one at all," Dean says mildly, "Ever noticed that?"

"Want it anyway?" Sam shrugs.

"Yes."

* * *

They spend the whole morning and much of the afternoon at the lake fishing and as Dean predicted not catching a damn thing. Neither of them mind, however. They share a lot of beers and a lot of laughs and watch the calm dark waters turn to crystal blue as the sun rises over them. They never bother to hit the cinema figuring the movies would suck anyway. But they still buy a box of popcorn at a concession cart by the lake and reminisce about the few great movies they did get to see on rare days off, tossing most of the popcorn a family of lucky ducks.

They watch the crystal blue waters turn to brilliant orange as the sun sets and then get into an impromptu game of touch football with a gang of preteens before dusk settles in. Under the guise of huddling over their next play, Dean tells the runt of the group about what a shrimp his brother used to be while pointing a thumb at the towering man in the other huddle. The waters have turned to ebony with a silver streak of moonlight by the time they take their leave, Dean tossing Sam the keys to the Impala along the way.

He lets his brother drive as fast and hard as he wants to, never saying a word about the tires or the stripped gears or even bothering to grab onto door handle for dear life as Sam takes a hairpin turn that nearly flips them over.

Sam could take them over a cliff Thelma & Louise style and Dean would clasp the kid's giant hand in his shouting 'Yes!' all the way down.

* * *

They wind up parked in some field out in the middle of no where finishing off the last couple beers as they sit on the hood staring at the stars.

Dean wonders how many nights he and Sam have sat staked out in silence in this exact same position and the answer that instantly comes back to him is 'not enough'. A shooting star zips overhead and Dean squeezes his eyes shut to make a wish. He would never tell a soul what he wished for in that moment… it would be redundant anyway.

"I don't want it to end, Dean…" Sam says softly, an oversized silhouette blocking the moon from Dean's view.

"The day?" Dean asks, his heart racing as he thinks, "_It doesn't have to, Sammy. We can run away and do this every single day for forever…_"

"The world," Sam answers simply and Dean's heart snaps in two, "As messy and fucked up as it all is… as we all are… I want it to go on. I want those kids in the pick-up game to grow up, grow old, come back to that same lake and sit around talking about how awesome they were in their younger days. I want their kids to do the same damn thing. I don't want those bastards to get their way and end it… I wanna end _them_. And… and it has to be this way. It has to be me, Dean… I let Lucifer out; I gotta put him back in… I have to do something to make it right again… Do you understand?"

Dean lies with his back against the windshield. He does understand. He doesn't say 'Yes' though, he's really starting to hate that word.

"I'm in," he says instead, "I'll back your play."

"Thank you," Sam sighs and although it's too dark to see, Dean knows his brother is smiling. He's glad it's too dark for Sam to see he's not.

"I'm in," he repeats, sliding off the hood and walking towards the back, "But the day isn't over yet."

Sam's whipping his head around suspiciously as Dean pops open the trunk to retrieve the big surprise.

"Now what?" Sam is almost afraid to ask.

"Well, you know me," Dean smirks stepping back into the moonlight, "If I gotta let you go, you're going out with a bang!"

And Sam is leaping off the car with a whoop and pumping his fists towards the sky as he rushes towards his brother and the huge box of fireworks that Dean is cradling in his arms.

"Most of 'em are illegal in this State," Dean beams as Sam nearly knocks him down with a hug.

"You are the most awesome brother!" Sam shouts.

"Damn straight I am," Dean says, "Got your lighter?"

"Hell yes I do!"

* * *

They take turns setting off the bottle rockets first, arguing over whose goes higher and farther. Then they move onto the Roman Candles, lighting them all at once and holding sparklers while trying to remember the words to 'My Country Tis of Thee'. By the time they start into the skyrockets, lighting up the night with color, the whole field is full of smoke.

Dean briefly loses sight of his brother through the fog and when he can finally make out his form again, Sam has shrunk. He's an undersized 14-year-old, smaller even than the pick-up runt. He stays that way in Dean's eyes in spite of the deep voiced bellows he can hear echoing through the smoke clouds. Dean blames the smoke for the tears that come as he watches Sammy dancing through the sparks.

When the fireworks are nearly gone, they pile the remainders all together in the box, giggling and snickering even as their hands shake trying to light all the fuses before the whole thing blows up in their faces.

"Fire in the hole!" they call out simultaneously as they run for dear life.

"Oh shit! Oh shit!" Sam cries because Dean is not running nearly fast enough and the explosion is going to be much bigger than either of them anticipated.

Dean feels himself tackled to the ground as the fireworks erupt behind him, protected from the blast by his brother's bulk.

They turn in time to see the whole thing go up in a dazzling geyser of light, decorating the night sky in a garden of color. It's the Fourth of July and Christmas and New Year's all at once and it's everything and forever even as the lights all burn out to nothing only moments after. Dean can see it all reflected in his brother's eyes as Sam watches, drinking in the whole scene.

The younger man's still leaning over him protectively and Dean wants to make some crack about Sam muscling in on his job. Instead he says nothing and just hugs the big guy tight. He can barely get his arms around his brother's massive chest and shoulders but Sammy's shrinking again, becoming the tiny child who held out his hands, reaching for his big brother as he took his first steps. He stays that size in Dean's mind even though he's nearly crushing the older man's bones as he returns the hug. And Dean doesn't bother blaming the tears on the smoke this time.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Princess."

He doesn't remember falling asleep, but Dean finds himself curled up on the ground, surrounded by spent bottle rockets with his head resting against Sam's thigh.

The younger man is gracious enough not to mention the drool on his pants' leg or the fact that Dean's hair is sticking straight out on one side as he sits up to survey the damage from last night. At least they managed not to burn down the field this time.

The sun is streaming through the trees as the Earth comes to life again with the sound of birds and scampering woodland creatures. Dean tries to form some thought about all these little creatures not realizing how close they came to losing their lives and homes because a couple of brothers were bound and determined to blow things up the night before… but then he realizes it's useless to try to get deep before his morning coffee.

Sam helps him up and into the passenger seat because he's still feeling pretty wrecked from the scant amount of rest he's had in the past 48 hours. And he sleeps the whole way back to Bobby's still seeing fireworks behind his eye lids and dreaming of his brother dancing in the sparks.

* * *

"We're here," Sam wakes him up with a serious tone that Dean thinks he must have imagined at first.

He finds the passenger side quite comfortable with the groove Sam's left in the seat over the years.

"Oh, I could get used to this," Dean starts to say before the words die in his throat and sink to the pit of his stomach.

Bobby and Castiel are standing by the steps of Bobby's workshop and he can see a pair of demons hanging upside down from the ceiling, writhing in their bonds over the Devil's Trap inside. Castiel runs a hand through his thick black hair and holds Ruby's knife out to Sam wordlessly asking him to do the honors.

As Sam squares his shoulders and marches forward, every fiber of Dean's being wants to scream out 'NO!' and hold the kid back, yank his hand away from the hot stove. But as he watches the man walk on towards his destiny, there's another part deep inside of him that knows this is right. This is Sam's choice and Sam's chance to make things right and Dean could never take that away from his brother or from the world. It's finally this part that Dean says 'yes' to, letting his life as protector and brother's keeper be laid to rest.

"It's just demons in there," Castiel says quietly as Dean passes by, "Bobby and I made sure of this. The victims… the bodies… they're already dead."

Dean closes his eyes and nods, thankful for small favors and refrains from saying: "I know just how they feel."

* * *

_**Two Months Later**_

Ben Braeden's coolness factor has skyrocketed.

As if it wasn't enough that in the last few weeks of school the kid started being dropped off and picked up by a leather jacket wearing badass in a hot classic car. Now he's shown up at the Little League's Fourth of July picnic with his hot mom arm in arm with the badass. And they've brought a huge box of fireworks!

"Most of 'em are illegal in this State," Ben tells his teammates.

And now Ben Braeden's coolness can be seen from Space.

* * *

"Fire in the hole!" Ben screams as a stampede of Junior High Schoolers race away from the immanent explosion.

Lisa Braeden bites her nails, squeezing Dean's hand tight as her child once again narrowly escapes the flames with all his fingers in tact.

"I cannot believe I said 'yes' to this," she groans.

"He'll be fine," Dean assures her, "Kids gotta live a little while they're young so they have something to brag about when they're old."

"Well, thanks for putting a few more grey hairs on my head tonight," Lisa snorts.

"You're welcome," Dean says absently as the smoke from all the fireworks rolls in.

Through the fog he's watching all the Pre-Adolescent forms dancing in the sparks. And as he watches they begin to grow into the men they all have a chance to become now. They stay that size in Dean's eyes even though it's only the screams and cheers of children he hears ringing through the smoky clouds. Though faintly, he thinks he hears a deeper voice echoing in the distance and as he squints through the smoke, he can swear there's a broad shouldered form dancing in the middle of the group, towering over all the rest.

Dean bows his head, screwing his face up tight. It would be highly detrimental to Ben Braeden's coolness factor if the badass in the leather jacket starts bawling like a baby in front of the world.

"You all right?" Lisa asks, giving his hand another squeeze.

"Did I make it right?" the deeper voice echoes in the distance.

Dean lets out a long shuddering sigh and manages to pull himself together finally.

"Yes," he answers to both questions.

THE END

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: *sniff* Yeah, this is why I usually write comedy. **

**I had a couple pictures in mind when I started writing this story which I tried to incorporate into the scenes. **

**One is by EvilLunatic which is so sweet: ****http :/ / evillunatic .deviantart .com /art / Reminiscence -160293288**** (just cut and paste the url but remove the spaces.)**

**Then there was another by Tremaine where Sam was sleeping against Dean... but I wound up going the opposite way in the scene. But she has another picture which fits quite nicely as a companion piece and you can see it at this link:**

**http :/ / kamidiox .deviantart . com / art/ Swan- Song- 163420755 **

**I would love some reviews and feedback on this. Again, I usually write comedy and so I have no confidence when it comes to writing anything angsty or serious. So, please let me know what you think. **


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